Certain memories of you have dulled. And it’s not because they weren’t special or impactful. You left a crater on my heart, an indent impossible to fully heal.
But time does come in and takes up space. It glosses over our exact words, dims my recollection just a bit.
I don’t remember the date we broke up. I’m not sure what shirt I was wearing the last time I kissed you. Maybe it was a dress. Yeah, I think it was a dress.
But see, I can only say think. Because I’m not sure. These days, I don’t study the details like braille the way I once did. I remember your face, of course. The warmth to your brown eyes. The wave in your hair.
And even after all this distance, your laugh finds me in the most random moments.
But honestly, it’s your smile that still fucks me up.
It doesn’t matter how many years it’s been, that smile still knocks me over. I see a photo of you and my stomach feels punched. How can someone be so wonderful? So cute? How can something like a smile make the baby hairs on my arm stand at attention and my cheeks blush wine red?
I don’t know if it’s ever going to fade. It should have by now, right?
I don’t love you anymore. We don’t know each other. The people who were once so in love are figures from our past and I’m not sure the newer versions would even get along.
But damn, all you’d have to do is smile at me. You’d smile and I’d forget we ever fell apart. You’d smile and I’d be yours all over again.